Sometimes when God wants to reveal His heart to us, He communicates with words. But for folks like me, sometimes he has to draw a picture. I thought since Father’s Day is approaching, I would give you a glimpse into the gallery of my soul and show you a master Artist at work. . . .
The Bracelet
“Hold out your hand,” she said as I entered the room to kiss her good-night. With that, my daughter interrupted momentarily my nightly bedtime routine. “This is for you.” [click to continue…]
One of the dogwood trees my grandmother and I planted about 35 years ago.
The Leader of the Band is tired, and his eyes are growing old,
But his blood runs through my instrument, and his song is in my soul
My life has been a poor attempt to imitate the man
I’m just a living legacy to the Leader of the Band.
-Dan Fogelberg
Alison had that look in her eye. Half smile, half dead-serious, she walked up and to me and said, “Some of us have been talking. And we’d like to ask you a favor.”
“What’s that?” I asked cautiously – bracing myself for, well, anything.
“We don’t know either of these people, and we don’t think they knew Grandmother all that well. We were wondering if you would say something – you know, more personal – in the service.”
Alison is my cousin, and she’d just asked the unthinkable – to stand up in front of a couple hundred family and friends and eulogize a family legend.
I’d done plenty of funerals before, but this one was different. This was family. And not just any family member. It was Grandmother, for cryin’ out loud. [click to continue…]
(A Turning Point Story)
Have you ever met someone who, in a matter of a few minutes, made you so mad you wanted to reach across a Pizza Hut booth and slap some sense into him? Or lay hands on him… by the throat? Or baptize him with a pitcher of Pepsi (‘cause he’s not worth wasting a pitcher of real Coke on)?
If you answered yes to any of those, you may have once been in youth ministry, too. Or you’re just a little weird when it comes to Pizza Hut.
This is a story with a surprise ending. This is Jason’s story. And it could be yours… or the next teenager you meet. [click to continue…]
You never knew Lillie Edwards. I hardly did either, except for a brief two-week period years ago. But Lillie will always be a significant figure in my life and memory.
When I met Lillie Edwards, she was dying. I was green-green-green as a young pastor, serving in my first church in a senior role.
Lillie Edwards would be my first funeral service. But she taught me some things about living, and about dying, before our paths parted. [click to continue…]
“I swear, I keep thinking, if somehow I press through, I can get where I want to go. If, of course, it doesn’t kill me or I don’t kill myself in the process.” (from my journal, July 18, 2005)
+++++++
“This is warfare,” Robin said.
“It’s God!” I snapped back, dispirited and resigned. “Let’s just go home.”
Well, there you have it. Now you know what we fight about at my house.
It was the day from hell. It started with a hard funeral – a suicide victim – at which I was to speak. My message to the grieving family and friends was to “be still – cease striving – and know that he is God.” It was on a Monday, following a very harried and stressful Sunday, in the middle of a very harried and stressful summer.
But this was the Monday when the scenery was supposed to change. With the help of my office staff, we had scheduled a trip to the mountains to write.
As in, the LifeVesting book.
Here’s a little proverbial advice, for what it’s worth: Beware of trying to change your scenery on Monday. [click to continue…]
It was a surprising experience – seeing old friends, and people I had said good-bye to almost ten years earlier in that south Mississippi town. I was surprised at the warmth of their response. I was surprised at the depth of their respect for me. I was surprised at the intensity with which they prayed and expected good things from this youth retreat I was to lead. I was surprised at how many names I remembered, and how natural it still felt to love them – even though I had not seen them in so long a time.
Needless to say, there was a rush of memories. Like the time I borrowed Don’s reel-to-reel tape recorder, and he said to me at least three times, “Please lock it up in your office.” I forgot. Don didn’t. He went back to check the church the next morning, and there was his tape recorder. (Pause here to shudder).
There were memories of the homes where we held Bible studies. Memories of the King’s Inn – the Christian coffee house we started (the sign still hung outside the deserted building).
I also was reminded of the married adult retreat I was asked to help lead while I was there – and wound up being the only single person on the trip. This really entertained everyone when the other retreat leader was doing his session on marital intimacy. I was not amused. [click to continue…]
I got fired. I’d like to tell you why.
Just before I started grad school, I got a sales job with a unique premise. “Come to work for my janitorial company,” Sergio said, “and I will pay you a commission for as long as we clean the building.”
Remember that thing your mama told you about something sounding too good to be true? Yeah, that.
Living in a city the size of Fort Worth, I could easily see the potential for making some really good money for a long time. After all, the city was filled with office buildings, and that was the focus of Fort Worth Enterprises – particularly the big ones.
You can imagine how my eyes danced with dollar signs when I helped land the company’s first big account – no less than Hulen Mall. [click to continue…]
I want to tell you how a man invested in his future, and in mine. It happened nearly 15 years ago. He was in West Texas, I was in Memphis. Limited by distance, I was forced to have The Talk with him on the phone. It was a talk I dreaded.
This man was my father-in-law.
I had brought a lot of pain into his life and his family. And to say they were hurt and angry about it is putting it mildly.
I knew that in order to move on in a healing process in my life, I had to face up to some pretty serious mistakes – sins – and he and his family were the victims of a lot of that. I knew that regardless of what I would hear or how he would respond, I had to have The Talk.
Did I mention that I dreaded making that call? [click to continue…]
This is not a picture of God. It’s a picture of a Nanga Sadhu, or naked Hundu holy man. His face and body are smeared with ashes and he’s breathing out marijuana, not brimstone.
But look again.
I think in a lot of people’s minds, when they think of God, an image sort of like this emerges.
Angry.
Ashen.
Fire-breathing.
Other people imagine the opposite extreme [click to continue…]
It was that time again. Time to plan the annual Men’s Rafting Trip in Colorado. I had taken a group of fifty men a year earlier and discovered how some guys get the nickname “Bob” when they go rafting.
That’s all I want to say about that.
Now as I pulled out the file, I came across the list of men who had gone with me. What a difference 12 months had made! I was amazed at the profound changes so many of them had witnessed.
- Three had been fired from their work.
- One had quit his job and was unemployed for four months.
- One man endured an extended season of severe depression.
- Another had faced a dangerous autoimmune disease and was out of work for several weeks.
- One man’s career was at a dead end.
- Three others lost their businesses.
- One left for another state with no job in sight.
Put in Biblical language, “their brooks had dried up.” That is, they looked to a means by which God had provided for them in the past – health, strength, job, career – only to discover that the resource was no longer available.
Little did I know as I scanned that list that I, too, would soon face a drought of my own. Up until that time my ministry was fairly evenly split between an itinerant ministry and a part-time pastoral staff position. Within a matter of weeks, my traveling ministry had dwindled to two continuous months of inactivity. Then the church where I had served for four years terminated me, along with a number of other staff members, because of budgetary restraints.
Downsized! [click to continue…]
Sometimes when God wants to reveal His heart to us, He communicates with words. But for folks like me, sometimes he has to draw a picture. I thought since Father’s Day is approaching, I would give you a glimpse into the gallery of my soul and show you a master Artist at work. . . . 
